


A Cave of Sheets Tonight

by teeenfags



Series: Domestic AU [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: AND MARRIED!, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Fluff and Smut, M/M, the fluffiest smut imaginable, these boys are so Soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:38:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeenfags/pseuds/teeenfags
Summary: their evening plans happened to coincide with terrible weather. shisui gathered a better idea for the night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was a gift fic for [ Surfacage](http://www.surfacage.net/) inspired by a fanart of hers. originally posted on tumblr 2/14/16. [companion track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzw5QPSJDIM).

outside the sky casts a dark grey tint across the ground as the snow piled up against it, masking the setting sun and bringing nightfall quickly. the weather reports showed no signs of the snow stopping anytime soon and itachi groaned from underneath the comforter. they had plans to go out that evening, an invitation to a birthday celebration that happened to coincide with the terrible weather.

thirty minutes to six and they were already running late. shisui decided to be the first one to take a shower after itachi refused to move from his comfy spot on the bed, and he still laid there with his lazy sunday attire: an exceedingly baggy grey shirt that belonged to shisui and ran all the way down past his hips, granting no need for pants. along with long socks that almost reached the knee, a pair he kept specifically for days like this where it was cold and shisui demanded he shield the frozen icicles he called feet. he was soft and content and with every passing moment the evening plans seemed to grow less and less appealing.

shisui pads back into the room with a towel draped over his shoulders, hair still dripping wet from the shower and sighs when he sees itachi still burrowed in the sheets. he walks over and plops down next to itachi, waits for him to speak – when he doesn’t, shisui reaches over and draws the fluffy blankets up to cover them completely. he scoots closer to the balled up form next to him and presses his forehead against itachi’s.

“if you don’t want to go we can just make something up,” shisui whispers as if the volume on the world had attenuated inside their little blanket fortress. itachi inhales deeply and closes his eyes, his wispy eyelashes brush across shisui's cheeks.

he sinks down like he’s trying to hide from the question. “i want to stay here...” itachi mumbles into the curvature of shisui’s collar bone.

“hmm? speak up ‘tachi, i can’t understand you from down there.” a faint muffled sound of frustration left itachi as he tried to burrow his face even deeper into shisui’s chest.

“i’m sorry i haven’t mastered the art of communicating through vibrations yet,” shisui teased and it gained a snort from his taciturn lover.

itachi lifts his head up just a bit so that shisui can see one side of his face. “let’s stay here; it’s warmer and quiet. just the way sundays are supposed to be.”

shisui hummed and gingerly pressed a kiss to the top of itachi’s messy hair, “i knew you’d say that.”

“really? hmph. how are you so sure?” itachi counters, raising himself up to be more eye level to shisui. but of course he knew – he always did. itachi was essentially as transparent to shisui as the rice paper used to make their favorite summer rolls.

“c'mon ‘tachi, how long have i known you?” a question almost reverent in its confidence.

itachi never fails to be taken aback by shisui’s sincerity – even after all these years – and the question that was more of a statement caused a flush of color to tinge the bridge of itachi’s nose.

“hmm,” shisui touches his chin pensively for a moment, “you know what this needs?” he’s getting up before itachi can gather an answer, leaving to the hall, and not five seconds later returns with a stack of pillows beneath each arm. he piles them one on top of the other under the sheets until they’ve made a sort of tent-like pitch.

“there,” he says, admiring his work. “it’s uh, kind of like a small pillow fort, in a way.”

“i think it’s great,” says itachi, smiling into his pillow. he pats the bed next to him as a signal for shisui to come back and make it warm again.

they stay huddled together under their makeshift pillow fort for maybe ten minutes, syncing their breathing into a comfortable rhythm. shisui brushes his fingertips up and down just barely touching the surface of itachi’s arm; itachi smooths his hand in circles on shisui’s back. there’s a sleep-heavy, familiar tempo to their movements as the heat lingers on their skin and the haziness builds.

“your hands still feel kind of cold,” shisui says in a hushed tone that flutters next to itachi’s ear.

“mmm, a little. they’re getting warmer now, though.”

“i know a way to make you even warmer,” says shisui as he pulls itachi closer and kisses him softly at first, then harsher and deeper.

itachi’s head must have been hazier than he thought – because in a matter of minutes shisui had lifted him up and he was now straddling him, feeling shisui leave a trail of damp kisses down the length of his neck.

the comfortability between them reveals itself in many ways: for one, when itachi reaches up to pull the loose fitting shirt over his head only for shisui to say “don’t bother.” either married life has made them exceptionally lazy, or specifically attuned to one another’s wants and needs. they’d never be able to distinguish between the two.

his hands eventually find themselves in shisui’s disheveled hair. raking his fingers through the curls, he pulls on them slightly eliciting a soft groan from shisui still at his neck. the warm breath spilled across itachi’s shoulder causing a chill to run up his spine.

shisui’s hands glide down itachi’s chest and slip under his shirt. they move between his thighs, enticing and soft and _not close enough_. shisui recognizes the hitch in itachi’s breath and deliberately moves his hands up to grip itachi’s hips, grinding him down hard on his lap and itachi knows the moan he lets out only fuels shisui’s ego.

the heat in his stomach is building, tap-dancing knots and burning gently under his skin, but itachi has learned through the years that well-trained patience is his best asset against shisui’s teasing.

itachi dips just the tips of his fingers underneath the waistband of shisui’s briefs; softly runs them up and down, side to side, toys with his resolve a little – he deserves a smidgen of his own medicine once in a while – before sinking both hands in and tugging them down.

they’re skin to skin now, and itachi has the advantage to take shisui apart bit by tantalizing bit.

but to no surprise of his own, shisui never plays fair.

“ _ah ah_ , hold it,” shisui interjects, halting itachi’s movements. he reaches behind him to slide something out from under the pillow. it's a tie; one of shisui’s nicer ties, itachi notes. shiny and made of silk, with the uchiha crest emblazoned on the bottom.

“oh? and what do you intend to do with that?” itachi retorts, raising a skeptical brow.

“it’s _le pièce de résistance_ for the evening,” shisui says in a terrible accent. he stretches the tie out between his fists in a jerk motion and it makes a _pop_.

itachi eyes the tie tentatively. “uh huh, so that is supposed to be for me then. when did you think up this little idea?”

“it _may_ have popped into mind a few days ago, and i _may_ have been saving it for an occasion where we stayed in again.” he offered the answer with a sly tone and a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

shisui looks so much like an excitable puppy at this point itachi can do nothing but humor him. “well then, are you waiting to drag the suspense out longer or are you going to demonstrate your master plan?”

“i’m choosing to ignore the sarcasm in that,” shisui replies with subtle bite and takes both of itachi’s wrists in hand, tying the tie around them with a sturdy knot.

“now you can’t use those hand shaped popsicles against me,” teases shisui, laughing when itachi tries hitting him with his bound hands.

“i’m only half kidding,” shisui says, kissing itachi in the same breath. itachi tries to say “ _i know–_ ” but it gets lost between their mouths.

itachi anchors himself with his arms around shisui’s neck, building up a rhythm along the length of him: slower, faster, then _agonizingly_ slow. he’s become an expert on how to turn his husband into a melting, wanting mess in his hands.

it’s not long before they’re both breathless, whispering each other’s names in worship only for it to die on the tips of their tongues through a gasp.

at this point even their sex has become an almost innate practice, everything exudes infinite tenderness. how they can navigate so easily through their bodies – how they memorized which parts produced a certain reaction. for shisui, it was the way itachi’s body moved: supple and just the perfect fit, when he held it in his hands it felt like home. the way his toes curled when he came; the wanton moans when his hair was pulled. for itachi, it was the way shisui sank his fingers into his skin and left claw marks. how even when he couldn’t articulate a sentence to save his life, when his head was too clouded with sensation, he needn’t say a word because shisui always understood what he wanted.

when he’s teetering on the edge itachi just has to say _please_ —and shisui wraps a hand around his throat, gently squeezes until itachi’s strained breathy pants play a tune that sounds like _yes yes yes_. itachi can feel his pulse racing against shisui's palm becoming rhythmic with his thrusts, feels the pressure building at the base of his spine as shisui's control begins to slip; the sound of skin striking skin grows increasingly louder.

itachi throws his head back when he comes – and shisui, just a beat later, rasps out a strangled _fuck_ as he rides out his and itachi’s orgasms.

they drop back onto the bed sweaty and out of breath. itachi rests his head on shisui’s chest. they stay that way for a while until their breathing evens. itachi presses feather-light kisses to his chest, eyes drooping shut as his pulse calms once more. shisui snakes his arms around itachi’s waist.

there is no need for words, sometimes it’s essential to leave empty space, no sounds save their gentle exhales. the evening turned out better than itachi could have expected: warm and quiet, comfortable and happy and close now. just the way he wanted.


End file.
